


Uncommon

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli admits his crush to unforeseen complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncommon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “DoYC fancies Bilbo. He's not shy or anything (unless he is one of the shy ones and had to pluck up a lot of courage for this) so he asks Bilbo out. Bilbo turns him down quickly. The problem is, Bilbo fancies him back. He's just asexual. Romance is great, but he simply assumes that anyone looking for a relationship is looking for one which includes sex, so it pains him greatly to turn the dwarf down, it's just for the best. And no one else gets it, because they know that Bilbo likes the dwarf! And Dwarf is heart-broken. Fillers choice whether Bilbo ever actually explains himself. Also filler's choice how the DoYC reacts to this information. 100 bonus points if either no dwarf has heard of asexuality and therefore none of them understand it, or if it's common in dwarves and they are very understanding. 1000000000 bonus points for a happy ending, however you wish it to happen.” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23522260#t23522260).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Stuck in Laketown as they are, recuperating and gathering supplies, Fíli finally has an opportunity. They have privacy, especially Bilbo, who’s been given his own room, and for the first time since they left Bilbo’s quaint hole in the ground, they’re not in constant fear of orcs and wargs, on guard over elves, or just plain exhausted. 

And by now, Fíli’s had time to put it all together, too. He’s now positive that the warm feelings Bilbo’s handsome face first stirred in him are more than just a passing fancy. He knows a fair bit about the little hobbit, his persnickety tendencies, the boundlessness of his heart, his bravery and wisdom and even his strange, foreign customs. Fíli knows that he likes it all, likes sitting next to Bilbo at the campfire every night, lying next to him on the road. He likes just about everything about Bilbo, and they’re on the last leg of their journey, where if he doesn’t tell Bilbo soon, he might never get a chance. 

So he finds himself outside Bilbo’s room, summoning his courage. It’s considerably easier to do so for battle than it is for matters of the heart like this. But Kíli’s given him a pep talk and he’s waited long enough, and one way or another, he hast to know if he has a chance. He’s never met anyone in his life like Bilbo. He’s never liked anyone so much. He knocks on the door, and when Bilbo’s muffled voice chirps, “Come in,” he opens it and steps inside.

He shuts the door behind himself, just in case. Even though Kíli’s insisted that there isn’t a chance of rejection, there always is, and if that happens, he won’t want any witnesses.

He finds Bilbo sitting on the rickety bed pushed against the wooden wall, his new blue coat on and an old beige shirt strewn across his lap. He’s sewing a hole back together, which is more than any of the dwarves would do. But that’s one of the nice things about Bilbo; he finds ways to solve problems both big and small, where the rest of them blunder on through. Looking up from his lap, he gives Fíli a smile and asks, “What is it?”

Fíli licks his lips. He isn’t accustomed to being nervous—his mother always tells him he’s too foolhardy and could use more fear. Still, he fidgets on the spot, then wanders closer to the bed, finally plopping down. Bilbo doesn’t say anything about it. The bed’s neatly made, as only Bilbo’s would be, and Fíli smoothes a hand over it, just for an excuse to not look at Bilbo. He’s never been particularly shy. But how exactly does one court a hobbit?

Directly. It’s the only way Fíli knows how to do anything. He sucks in a breath and forces himself to look up. Bilbo seems to understand that it’s something important, because he lowers his needle, giving Fíli his full attention. 

“Bilbo,” Fíli starts, now looking right into Bilbo’s eyes, which somehow makes it easier—he _knows_ he’s felt something between them; Kíli’s right, they have a _spark_. “Over the course of this journey, I’ve come to have a lot of respect for you. You’ve gotten us out of so many situations; you’re clever, and you’re braver than any of us gave you credit for. You’ve also managed to keep your head up through all the bad things that’ve happened to us—you never lash out like the rest of us do, you’re always nice, and everyone in the group likes you.” A faint blush creeps onto Bilbo’s cheeks, and he’s frowning. Of course he’d be too humble to take a compliment. But that’s not the hard part. Pausing, Fíli continues, “I know we’re very different people. Hell, we’re not even from the same race. But... I really admire you, Bilbo. And it’s more than that. The more I get to know you, the more I like you, and when this quest is over, I... I don’t want us to go our separate ways and never see each other again. I guess what I’m trying to say is... I _like_ you, Bilbo. A lot. I think I’ve had a crush on you since we first left the Shire and you had that cute fiasco over your handkerchiefs. It’s grown a lot more than that since. I think having you around has helped _me_ grow. I like you _a lot_. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. So... so, I suppose I’m asking you out.” Not suppose. He is. But he has a habit of talking too much, and he’s already gone off that deep end. So he shuts up, awaiting the response. 

Bilbo’s frozen. His eyes have gone very wide, his pink lips parting open. He looks shocked. Flattered, and maybe afraid. As the surprise dies off his features, his frown deepens, his eyebrows knitting together, and Fíli gets the horrible, sinking realization that he’s made Bilbo _sad_. Which wasn’t at all his intent. Bilbo shakes his little head and mumbles, “Fíli...”

Bilbo lifts a hand to his face, hiding it. When he lifts it a moment later, he looks determined, but it’s clear he’s stifling pain. He says, “I’m sorry, but no.”

Fíli numbly repeats, “No.” He almost can’t believe it. There were so many times when he was sure they had _something_. Just a few nights ago, Bilbo slept almost right against him under the guise of counteracting the cold. When Bilbo freed him from the Elf King’s dungeon, there was a wave of _relief_ in Bilbo’s eyes that he was sure went beyond the concern Bilbo showed for the others. He even redid one of the braids in Fíli’s hair when they were at Beorn’s and there was a moment’s rest to groom again. 

But he said _no_ , and that leaves Fíli with nothing to do but feel empty and slip off the bed. He mutters, “Sorry,” for nothing in particular, maybe just habit—sorry for bothering him. Bilbo looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t. He doesn’t resume sewing, either, but does look down at it, maybe just to avoid Fíli. 

Fíli slips out of the room, shuts the door again, and wishes frantically that he could undo the last few minutes—it was such a _fast_ rejection, too; Bilbo didn’t even _consider_ him—so they could go back to at least being friends. Some of Bilbo’s affection would be far better than none at all. 

He wanted a part of Bilbo’s affection solely for himself, but evidently, he can’t have that. The walk back to his room is a haze. 

And Kíli makes it worse by already being atop Fíli’s bed, grinning encouragingly and asking, “So, how did it go?”

One proper look at Fíli’s face answers that question. Kíli’s smile drops. His face warps into confusion, and he says flatly, “He didn’t reject you.”

Hollowly, Fíli says, “He rejected me.”

“But... what?” Kíli splutters, clambering off the bed. He’s at Fíli’s side in a heartbeat, looking genuinely lost. “No, Fíli, I’m _sure_ he likes you. C’mon, he gets that moony look every time he thinks you aren’t looking. Trust me, Bilbo _wants you._ ”

“Bilbo doesn’t want me,” Fíli practically snaps, before hurriedly reining it back in. Several of the other dwarves are still scattered about the borrowed house, and there’s no sense bringing them all in to it by shouting. But he wants to punch Kíli for filling his head with nonsense. As Fíli moves around him, Kíli has the audacity to look as devastated as Fíli feels. 

He flops down onto the bed face-first, boots still on and everything. It’s too cold in Laketown to ever take them off. Kíli follows him over, spluttering, “Did he say why?”

“I’m not going to hassle him, Kíli,” Fíli grunts into the musky bedspread. “He said no, so it’s over.”

“...Did you say it right?”

Fíli lifts his head just enough to glare at his brother. He knows Kíli means well, but it’s really not helping. 

“Maybe if I went and talked to him—”

“Don’t you dare,” Fíli hisses, sitting up again. He climbs off the bed without a real plan, bee-lining around Kíli for the door again. He has no intention of pestering Bilbo, but he does ignore Kíli’s protests and leave like he’s going to. Instead, he intends to go to the kitchen and see if there’s anything alcoholic around he can drink to get him through the next few hours, or maybe straight through until they’re on the road again and he can at least focus on the quest. 

Unfortunately, he has to go down the hall to reach the kitchen. Bilbo’s door is at the end, blocking the stairs. Fíli doesn’t realize until it’s too late that the hall’s already occupied, Bilbo outside his door and Thorin in front of him. As soon as they realize he’s there, whatever conversation they were having dies. They both turn to him, Thorin frowning and Bilbo...

Bilbo’s _crying_. There’s a split-second where Fíli’s heart clenches, and then he thinks he knows what’s wrong. It might be better to hide back in his room, but he’s nobler than that. He practically rushes to the end of the hall, blurting before he’s even reached them, “Bilbo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Thorin cuts him off by raising a hand. Stunned, Fíli closes his mouth. Looking down at Bilbo, Thorin says, “Tell Fíli what you told me.” Bilbo sniffles and nods, then pats down his sides like looking for a handkerchief that isn’t in any of his pockets. Thorin nods back, then gives Fíli a kind look. He pats Fíli’s shoulder but says no more, heading off to the stairs.

It leaves Fíli standing alone with Bilbo, feeling speechless. Bilbo sniffs again and mumbles, “Will you come back in?” He’s fumbling his door open a moment later, and Fíli numbly follows. 

He tries to say, “You don’t owe me an explanation—”

But Bilbo waves him off and over to the bed. “Please, just listen.”

So Fíli readies himself to do so. It’s difficult, slipping onto the edge of the bed with Bilbo right beside him—there’s no better furniture for them, the old wooden house having not nearly enough chairs to go around for fourteen people. All of it’s built for another species, and Fíli’s feet can’t quite reach the ground, though Bilbo’s are even higher. He wipes at his eyes before he says anymore, and Fíli has to clench his fists against his knees to keep from wiping Bilbo’s wet cheeks on his sleeves. Bilbo takes a steadying breath, then lets it out again.

He looks up at Fíli with his handsome face, soft eyes, blunt nose and hairless chin. “I _do_ like you,” he intones, full of confliction. “I _adore_ you, Fíli, and I have for quite some time, too. But...” He pauses, and Fíli’s pulse soars, even though he heard the ‘but.’ “...I’m asexual.”

He says it like a big confession. Fíli blinks.

The he asks, “How asexual?” Because he’s too caught off guard to phrase things properly. Bilbo’s eyebrows knit together in the middle, and Fíli shakes his head, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, I mean... hugs, kisses...?”

As awkward as ever, Bilbo mumbles, “Oh. Uhm... I like those. I love romance. I love affection, but... well, I wouldn’t want kisses that got... too... and I don’t want anything, um... below the belt...” He looks wholly embarrassed, even though there’re at least a couple others in their company like that, of various ranges. Evidently, Bilbo doesn’t know that.

And it leaves Fíli almost laughing in relief. The more his grin grows, the more Bilbo looks nervous, but it takes Fíli a moment to recover himself enough to say, “Bilbo... that’s fine. It’s common among dwarves.” Bilbo’s mouth falls open, eyes wide with shock, and Fíli shrugs to speculate, “To be honest, that’s probably one of the reasons our population’s so small. But... but I’m okay not having a sexual relationship, if you will still have me. ...That is why you said no, isn’t it...?”

“It is,” Bilbo agrees, frowning. “But that’s not realistic. You should have someone who will enjoy sex with you...”

“I don’t need sex,” Fíli says without hesitation. “I mean it. Well. I’ll still have my hand, right?” He stops himself from grinning, because Bilbo’s obviously too distressed for jokes right now. He looks like he’s been through the ringer, his eyes still wet but at least not sobbing like before. So Fíli tries to explain, “A relationship is so much more than that. I’d way rather have you but no sex than neither, or a different relationship with someone else. I’ve never met anyone like you, Bilbo. I meant everything I said earlier. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone, and the only reason I’m not wording it stronger is that I don’t want to scare you off.” 

Bilbo sniffles. He lifts a little hand to wipe one eyelid clean, mumbling, “Really?”

“Really.”

“But it isn’t so easy...”

“Relationships are never easy,” Fíli says, confident on that. “They’re always work. Ours would be work anyway, because we’re different in so many other ways, but... if we want to be with each other, and we talk about our differences and all that...” He trails off, but Bilbo looks like he understands. 

Bilbo says quietly, “I really do like you, Fíli. And that’s saying something.” It’s his turn to chuckle, and he shakes his head, muttering, “I never thought I’d want a _dwarf_ , but at least you aren’t so... big and hairy.” Fíli laughs. He’s hardly as small and hairless as a hobbit, but maybe he can pass enough for comfort. Grinning, Bilbo adds, “But it’s more than that, really. Than you being very handsome, I mean. You’re exciting, worldly but not jaded, strong but thoughtful... I always know your heart’s in the right place...”

Fíli risks moving his hand across the space, putting it overtop of Bilbo’s. Bilbo looks down at the contact, and his cheeks indent with his smile. Bilbo’s hand is just as warm and soft as Fíli thought it would be. 

Bilbo turns, opening his arms, and Fíli scoops into them, gathering Bilbo into a thick, tight hug. Clinging to him back, it’s Bilbo that decides first, “That’s it, then. We’re dating.” He pauses, but before Fíli can add his happiness, Bilbo exclaims almost hysterically, “I’m dating a Dwarven prince!”

“Not yet,” Fíli chuckles, only detangling so he can look at Bilbo’s face again. “We still have to win Erebor.” Bilbo nods, though he still looks as though he considers himself extremely lucky. Fíli’s the one that feels like he’s won the grand prize. 

He pulls his sleeve over his fingers and uses it to help wipe the tears away from Bilbo’s eyes, while Bilbo looks up at him with a tender, dreamy expression. 

Fíli’s just as giddy. He doesn’t know where to start. He asks, “Are you hungry? Should we get something to eat...?”

But Bilbo asks, “Can we cuddle first?” And Fíli readily agrees. Bilbo wraps around him again, this time dragging him sideways, down onto the mattress. 

And they lie like that, looking fondly at one another and occasionally rubbing noses, until Kíli bursts in and exclaims, “I _knew_ it!”


End file.
